Adventures: walking, travel, PhD research experiences

ConFest

The woman’s face was a metre high and lying sideways. She smiled at me as I sat on the bush toilet at Confest, making a solid, private barrier against the wind, unlike the inadequate fabric door that flapped in front of me. I love the way that anything that can be made into something useful becomes a functioning artwork; from old PVC billboards turned into toilet walls and workshop space floors and roofs, to the burnt out car, now painted with flames, that sits near the site entrance as a warning against any fire or naked flame.

I’d arrived at the site on Friday, wearing new Levi’s and a long sleeved Gorgeous Voices Festival shirt, which said ‘gorgeous inside and out’ on the back. The drive had hyped me up and I did a reconnaissance of the site quickly, locating key places; information tent, the market place, first aid tent, arts beach, mud pit, and tantra village. This awareness of the layout was useful for navigating quickly to workshops and visiting friends, or finding my way back to my tent in the dark. It took a few hours before I relaxed, and changed into looser, softer clothes, which I scaled down progressively over the next few days, discarding the tight, restrictive elements until by the time I left for home I was wearing dusty pyjamas and a sleeveless top, and no bra. My son had firmly instructed that I not visit his campsite naked, which his friend pointed out was not a prohibition on visiting, so I maintained a maternal decorum at all times (except for when swimming) out of respect for my son’s feelings – and sun protection, of course. While driving around looking for a place to camp I heard my name called out and was thrilled to see Elyse, who came rushing up for a bare breasted hug. This enthusiastic welcome set the tone for my Confest.

The community stretched out along the river, and I chose a campsite near the centre and started to unpack the tent. A friendly, naked man came over to say hello and offer assistance, including advice about the best location of the tent for shade in the afternoon. Soon this advice extended into lending me a rake to clear the site, and a hammer for the pegs. Kevin proved to be an excellent neighbour, sharing shade from his tarp, cups of tea in the morning, washing up facilities, and steady companionship. Our tents had been on the edge of the established site, but over the next three days the population tripled and tents and cars were everywhere. Waterfront sites were highly prized, but the increase in mosquitoes was a downside.

The Hilarious Healers

I went to Confest alone, but had wanted someone to connect with, so asked Cath if I could meet up with her, and she warmly agreed, with the warning that her friends were ‘bit of a motley crew with a few kinksters and outrageous folk in the blend’. They were fabulous, welcoming, hilarious people, who formed a community around Cath when she sprained her ankle on day two. The Hilarious Healers campsite always had something happening, with Cath in the centre, her ankle propped up on a chair, being iced initially and later with an onion strapped on to reduce the swelling. Andy brought his harp over and played a healing tune, and Polly sang. Their daughter, clearly a child of performers, twirled her hula hoop in an impressive, sustained demonstration of hooping skill. In the evening a cuddle puddle formed in the gauzy, flower decorated boudoir gazebo, complete with cushions and a mozzie zapping tennis racquet.

We prepared a Bacchanalian procession for the New Year’s Eve fashion parade, and the process was a demonstration of diverse skills being pulled together by this harmonious community. A trolley was converted to a chariot fit for a queen with the addition of a car seat, star picket handles, a leafy branch, prayer flags, and purple patchwork velour blanket. Those not preparing the chariot were planning outfits, doing body art, or choreographing our music and presentation to the judges. Queen Cathopatra sat regally on her chariot attired in a pink chiffon dress, fishnet stockings, black leather corset, purple feather boa, red hat atop cascading chestnut curls, and dramatic black and rhinestone sunglasses. She carried a black leather whip. Sometimes she bestowed a spanking on a fortunate subject. Leading the procession were two men playing djembes at a solemn, heartbeat pace. One was dressed in black and white stripes and a red fez, and the other in leopard skin, tied over one shoulder, Tarzan-style. Another pair in the procession were six foot men, one in a full-length zebra print jersey frock and butterfly headband (worn around the forehead, hippie style), a sporran at the waist and stubby in hand, and the other wore a full length turquoise caftan, black and yellow striped socks, with elastic sided boots. Bacchus, bare-chested with gold body paint and wreathed with leaves, pulled the chariot. One woman played a cool reed pipe, while another, in transparent floral frock and extensive body art, including a vulva painted on her arm, played a small Peruvian mud pipe and tended to Her Majesty’s needs. A dom/sub couple, her in leopard print tights, frilly black knickers and a corset, with long red hair swept back off her forehead and over her shoulders, led him on a lead which was attached to a blue leather collar around his neck. I wore a red and black lace frou frou frock, red rhinestone trimmed glasses, red feather fascinator, and purple and red feather scraps from the boa in my fuchsia and orange runners, and played brass bells in time to the drums, walking with a man in a hot pink sequinned waistcoat who played a pipe. We processed slowly and with dignity to the market place, where Her Majesty kindly consented to give blessings or spankings. A line formed quickly, and humble subjects, taking turns, listened earnestly to Queen Cathopatra’s gracious wisdom. It was a happening, and awesome to be part of it.

Shibari

I’ve been fascinated by shibari for some time, but not experienced it, so went to a workshop where it was to be demonstrated. Sarah held the space with professional skill, emphasising that it was about expansion and contraction of ourselves; openness to the world or closing it off. The use of rope was merely a 3D manifestation of our internal behaviour. This made perfect sense to me. Kat was the model, and Sam tied her, explaining about the correct ropes to use (natural fibres, not synthetic or elastic ones). He advised about having a rope cutter to hand in case a quick release was needed. As he tied Kat he checked with her regularly about how she was feeling, the comfort of the rope. Sarah encouraged Kat to describe what the experience was like for her, and explained to us watching that we could also look inwards to the knots we tied ourselves in – how did they make us feel, and how can we release ourselves? Kat’s breathing quickened and slowed during the process, and we all gasped when Sam jerked her suddenly to place a new knot, followed by a sensual drawing of the rope across her body in contrast. Eventually she was tied in a bent over position, hands behind her back, and Sam rolled her around the floor. The untying was just as ritualistic and sensual as the tying, and Kat tried to explain through her endorphin buzz what it was like for her. Sam thanked and praised Sarah for the way she held the space, which Kat said had made her feel very safe.

In the evening I observed another shibari demonstration which was quite different. I’d been heading to bed when I was greeted by a friend who held out her trembling hands to show how excited she was, and said she was to be tied in the chai tent, and to come and watch. It was a different person tying her, and while he checked in on her regularly to ensure her physical and psychological comfort, there was no effort to make or hold the space. I sat with her partner, and we discussed with each other what was happening, how we felt, how she looked, and how she might be afterwards. It was good for both of us to be able to talk about it. He explained that the person being tied is the one with the power, because despite the restraints they call the shots; to continue, or stop. She was exhilarated, and clearly loved the experience. When the person tying moved to tie someone else, he asked the partner to keep an eye on her, and keep away people who might try to touch or speak with her. I decided that if I ever experience shibari personally I’d prefer it to be in a more psychologically contained space.

Cosmic speed dating

Cosmic speed dating was led by Dave Naylor in the Comedy Tent. Dave dressed for the occasion in tiny orange patterned shorts, held up with orange braces, wearing a fluoro orange fedora. He looked fabulous, and did a brilliant job of guiding the 60 strong crowd through a journey from before the creation of the universe to the present day. We acted out and interacted via the big bang, dinosaurs, extinctions, grouping according to star sign, and finally across key points of human history, such as the development of the first tools, travel, food and modern technology. We finished in groups of five, where we took it in turns to say our name and something we wanted from 2013, and stand in the middle of the group with the other four repeating our name and our chosen word, while they patted or stroked us (if we gave permission). When I saw people from that session later around the site it was like greeting old friends, and ensured a sense of belonging.

I made friends also in Simon Oats’ storytelling session, and learnt a new icebreaker technique I’ll use when teaching. It is called zip zap boom, and is a way of passing the energy around the circle like a Mexican wave – the zip – stopping and reversing the energy – the zap – or flicking it across to someone else – the boom. Simon taught us some good storytelling techniques, then told a great story – although I still want to know the ending to the joke about the pope, the showgirl and the poodle!

The magic of Confest

The magic of Confest manifested itself when I was walking to my tent after the new year midnight celebrations, because I found by chance the people who were significant to me and I’d wanted to see to embrace and wish well for the new year. Later the persistent Confest drums provided a rhythmic backdrop which lulled me to sleep.

I drove home via an unfamiliar, seemingly indirect route that got me to my destination using fewer kilometres than the intended, simple way. I hope this is a metaphor for completing my PhD over the year to come. I had been worried I would not wind down from the study head space, now I’m so relaxed I wonder about getting back into it.

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One Response

Looks like a nice connection between your research and your interests; quite helpful when there is a connection. Not familiar with Confest, so glad to add it to my own experience, even via distance. In many ways, your talking about your experiences here on your blog adds an extended presence of the festival. Thanks for sharing it!